


Three Truths

by pocky_slash



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the first few weeks of their acquaintance, there are things Charles and Erik know undeniably about themselves and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Truths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shaliara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaliara/gifts).



> This was supposed to be for **shaliara** in the "three bits of headcanon" meme. It...spiraled out of my control.

Charles has never in his life felt something as powerful and moving as the pain that flares through his mind the night he meets Erik Lehnsherr.

He's never before believed in soulmates or destiny or any of that rubbish, but he's been all over the world, he's been around thousands and thousands of people, and not a single thing that's passed through his mind has rocked him off of his foundation the way that Erik does. Erik's agony spikes through his brain, sharp and aching, but it also twists his heart, leaves his chest heaving. He wants to put his hands on this man, to offer warmth and comfort, to do anything to keep him. He thinks he might die if Erik Lehnsherr slips from his fingers, and when it becomes evident that no one on the boat is heeding his pleas, he does what he has to--he peels off his coat, kicks off his shoes, and jumps into the suffocating warmth of the Miami waters.

His heart is hammering when he puts his arms around Erik for the first time and he realizes, distantly, that the last time he felt anything remotely close to this was when he fell in love with Shannon Frakes his first year at Harvard.

He dismisses the thought, initially, but once they surface, once Charles explains himself and they're bobbing in the water, waiting to be fished out, Charles sees his own wonder reflected back at him in Erik's eyes. He reaches for Erik's hand and Erik meets him halfway, though he seems surprised by the gesture. Still, when Charles squeezes his fingers, he squeezes back, his grip strong and warm and just as desperate. Charles knows, in that moment, that he needs to do everything he can to keep Erik with them, to convince him to stay.

*

Erik has to leave.

It was easy to convince himself that he was only going to Virginia to take what he needed to, to gather the CIA's information on Schmidt. It was easy to pretend it had nothing to do with Charles Xavier and his clear blue eyes and his enthusiasm and the way that talking to him could make Erik forget about Schmidt and revenge and all of the sharp edges that make him up, that have kept him alive all these years. When Erik talks to Charles about genetics and mutation and all manner of other minutiae, leaning close, keeping their voices low, knees knocking together, Erik can so easily forget his plan and focus on Charles, on his hands and his thighs and his mouth, on the ease with which the conversation flows. Erik has talked more in the two days since Charles pulled him out of the water than he's talked in the last year total.

But he can't let himself be distracted. He needs to find Schmidt. He needs to get his revenge. And if Charles is waiting for him after, then so be it, but he can't keep putting it off. He certainly can't keep putting it off because--

He wants to tell himself it's the joy at finding others like himself, others with special abilities. He wants to tell himself that he's fascinated by the unveiling of their race. Hell, he wants to tell himself that it's the idea of being accepted, being a part of something for the first time since a childhood he no longer remembers.

It's none of those things. It's down to Charles. Something about Charles is undeniable. Something about Charles spoke to him the second they met, Charles' voice ringing through his head, Charles' arms wrapped around his chest. It's sexual, yes, because Erik has never been shy about admitting those things to himself, but it goes beyond that. It twists into something so complicated and foreign that Erik would accuse Charles of constructing it himself and dropping it into Erik's brain. He knows that's not true, though, because he knows himself and he recognizes the threads that make it up when he spends a painful afternoon picking apart the feelings, analyzing himself in a way he never has before.

He can't let a single man have that much power over him. He promised himself that many years ago, promised that if he survived Shaw's torture, if he got away, he'd never let someone control him again.

And yet, he _wants_ to let Charles in. He wants the things that Charles is offering him. He wants the luxury of sharing his burden. He wants the option of relaxing for the first time in years, of letting someone else take care of him.

Because that's what Charles wants--it pours from him whenever they're together, an unconscious projection aimed steadily at Erik. Charles wants to soothe the hurt, to hide him away from the world, to _make it better_.

Erik needs to leave. He needs to leave immediately before Charles distracts him further, before he gives into his longing. Tonight, he'll take the file on Schmidt and flee and do what needs to be done, before he can let Charles stop him, before he can show Charles how ruined he really is, before Charles figures out that nothing can make it better.

*

They've not slept together yet.

There are many reasons why this surprises Charles. For one, his own history is peppered by more one night stands than extended courtships. For another, they both want it so much the walls are oozing with it. They both want it so much that the first night of their road trip, when they head down to the hotel bar and one drink turns to two turns to too many, the couples in the booths on either side of them spontaneously begin kissing and petting on a level that's really not appropriate for a public setting, while Erik slyly chastises Charles for his lax mental control.

Charles knows how much Erik wants it. Erik's mind screams at him whenever they're near each other, the desire base and desperate and keening to be acted on. Charles knows he's not much better, knows his affection is obvious on his face every time he looks at Erik. (So obvious, in fact, that when they leave CIA off-site, Raven murmurs into his ear, "Please, do something about this while you're gone before the lust kills us all.") He touches Erik frequently and lets his touch linger. They share looks that speak not only of attraction, but of admiration and tenderness. They speak without words, without even telepathy. He knows how Erik takes his coffee and what diner meals he prefers. Erik can make him a perfect cup of tea and always reminds the waitresses that Charles prefers his bacon extra crispy. Charles tends to Erik's knuckles after he throws a punch at a mugger with an eye on Charles' wallet. Erik huddles closely over Charles, stroking his hair back and offering him sips of water in the aftermath of that overpowering first session with Cerebro.

Charles is in love. He's known it since the start, though he's dared not speak the word out loud, unable to shake feeling foolish for making such a declaration after so short a span of time. Erik loves him too, he knows, even if Erik has yet to name the emotion that overtakes him when he sees Charles, foreign and out of place and the source of many hours of quiet contemplation.

There should be nothing stopping them. There should be nothing to keep Charles from leaning in for a kiss when he brushes the lint off Erik's shoulder in the privacy of their hotel room. There should be nothing to stop Erik from acting on his fantasy of licking the scotch from Charles' lips over the chessboard. But there's a barrier and Charles doesn't know what it is.

And then they find Angel. Angel, with her beautiful wings and her forthright attitude, Angel who agrees readily to join them unlike the last five attempts at recruitment. Angel, who meets them an hour later at the train station with a suitcase and lets them send her down to Virginia where Raven and Moira will pick her up.

And that, apparently, is what they needed--a success, a celebration. Because Charles doesn't hesitate, once they're back in the room, in cradling Erik's face and kissing him joyously and Erik doesn't hesitate in sliding his hands down to Charles' hips and pulling him close.

It's the first kiss, but it feels like the thousandth, the millionth, and Charles still doesn't want to stop, doesn't see the need when he can project his delight, his joy, straight into Erik's mind and when Erik can do the same.

"We're going to change the world," he breathes when they do finally--reluctantly--break.

"We are," Erik agrees, and for the first time since they met, the steady fire of revenge is entirely absent from his focus and it stays that way all night.


End file.
